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Lesson
© Forrest Hamer
It was 1963 or 4, summer,
and my father was driving our family
from Ft. Hood to North Carolina in our 56 Buick.
We'd been hearing about Klan attacks, and we knew
When You Get Home, Remember Me
© Henry Clay Work
Gallant and brave! together clinging,
True to the last! with but this plea;
Still in our ears its words are ringing,
"When you get home, remember me!"
The Homeless Ghost
© George MacDonald
Still flowed the music, flowed the wine.
The youth in silence went;
Through naked streets, in cold moonshine,
His homeward way he bent,
Where, on the city's seaward line,
His lattice seaward leant.
Docker
© Seamus Justin Heaney
There, in the corner, staring at his drink.
The cap juts like a gantry's crossbeam,
Cowling plated forehead and sledgehead jaw.
Speech is clamped in the lips' vice.
Keeping Going
© Seamus Justin Heaney
Piss at the gable, the dead will congregate.
But separately. The women after dark,
Hunkering there a moment before bedtime,
The only time the soul was let alone,
The only time that face and body calmed
In the eye of heaven.
Casualty
© Seamus Justin Heaney
Dawn-sniffing revenant,
Plodder through midnight rain,
Question me again.
The Tollund Man
© Seamus Justin Heaney
Some day I will go to Aarhus
To see his peat-brown head,
The mild pods of his eye-lids,
His pointed skin cap.
Death Of A Naturalist
© Seamus Justin Heaney
All year the flax-dam festered in the heart
Of the townland; green and heavy headed
Flax had rotted there, weighted down by huge sods.
Daily it sweltered in the punishing sun.
Mid-Term Break
© Seamus Justin Heaney
I sat all morning in the college sick bay
Counting bells knelling classes to a close.
At two o'clock our neighbors drove me home.
Grandmothers Teaching
© Alfred Austin
``Grandmother dear, you do not know; you have lived the old-world life,
Under the twittering eaves of home, sheltered from storm and strife;
Rocking cradles, and covering jams, knitting socks for baby feet,
Or piecing together lavender bags for keeping the linen sweet:
Daughter, wife, and mother in turn, and each with a blameless breast,
Then saying your prayers when the nightfall came, and quietly dropping to rest.
A Watch Sent Home To Mrs. Eliz: King, Wrapt In Theis Verses
© William Strode
Goe and count her better houres;
They more happie are than ours.
Worthy Places
© Ivan Donn Carswell
There were some worthy places where we could escape,
avoid the heavy weight of living in a densely
peopled space; the first was to the outside loo
(the only loo but where at least the toilet paper
Winter Uplands
© Archibald Lampman
The frost that stings like fire upon my cheek,
The loneliness of this forsaken ground,
The long white drift upon whose powdered peak
I sit in the great silence as one bound;
Last Load
© Ted Hughes
Baled hay out in a field
Five miles from home. Barometer falling.
A muffler of still cloud padding the stillness.
The day after day of blue scorch up to yesterday,
The heavens of dazzling iron, that seemed unalterable,
Hard now to remember.
"Tis An Old Tale And Often Told"
© Frances Anne Kemble
Are they indeed the bitterest tears we shed
Those we let fall over the silent dead?
To win a game
© Ivan Donn Carswell
How do you win a football game? Not by skill alone or clever plays,
in modern days the game has changed and subterfuge and actors
ways will pave the path to glory. Fitness pays a fair reward to keep
a fleetness in the feet, a clearness in the head, and special food
To A Sea-Gull
© Arthur Symons
Bird of the fierce delight,
Brother of foam as white
And winged as foam is,
Wheeling again from flight
To some unfooted height
Where your blithe home is;
Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part II.
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
O, Love builds on the azure sea,
And Love builds on the golden sand;
And Love builds on the rose-wing'd cloud,
And sometimes Love builds on the land.
On the Bill Which Was Passed in England For Regulating the Slave-Trade
© Helen Maria Williams
The hollow winds of night no more
In wild, unequal cadence pour,
Italy : 35. Caius Cestius
© Samuel Rogers
When I am inclined to be serious, I love to wander up
and down before the tomb of Caius Cestius. The
Protestant burial-ground is there; and most of the little
monuments are erected to the young ; young men of
